


Samuel

by yeahmytoastissoggysowhat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood and Gore, Don't Judge Me, Father/Son Incest, No you don't, i'm sorry about that, if you know me in real life, it's an outlet, it's fucked up again, not romantic i swear, read the other tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahmytoastissoggysowhat/pseuds/yeahmytoastissoggysowhat
Summary: sorry about all that
Kudos: 1





	Samuel

It was happening again. He sat upright in his bed, his back pressed against the headboard, his shoulders slightly slumped, his dead gaze staring forward. He sat next to himself and waited for it to pass. A lifetime ago he would have tried to get up and walk away from himself, unnerved by the out of body experience, but he quickly learned of the tether that kept him close to his body. The best thing to do was just wait. He absentmindedly scratched at his forearms, patiently waiting for the skin to be broken and the pain to jostle him back into place. Tiny beads of blood had began to form on reddening skin when the door burst open. Exactly the shock he needed, he jolted back into his body and watched his father slam the door behind him.  
The king was tall and broad, with shiny black hair and eyes icy enough to freeze anyone in their tracks. Samuel hated his father’s looks, and he hated that he had inherited so many of them. He hated his face, but he wasn’t sure whose he was referring to -his own or that of the man in front of him. Both, he supposed.  
“You’ve embarrassed me for the last time, Samuel. It’s time you learned a lesson.”  
It was happening again.  
Maybe his heart sank and maybe his stomach dropped. Maybe a lump of dread and anxiety formed in his throat. But Samuel felt nothing as his shoulders were locked in a fierce grip, his body undressed and flipped onto his belly.  
“I am your king and you will obey me.”  
Maybe it hurt. It probably did. He gripped the sheets and bit the satin covers and swallowed his agony and watched it all from afar. He was revolted by what he saw. When it was over, he was left alone in his underclothes and laid across his disheveled bed, exhausted after hours of dry heaving into his water jug. His body was sore, his throat was raw. Was it from getting sick? Had he been screaming? No, someone surely would have heard. No one ever hears. 

“My prince.” His door had opened again, much more gently this time. He flopped his head to the side to stare at who had entered and saw a simple servant. “The king is expecting you in his chambers.” She blinked, having been fearful before and now finally taking in the scene before her. “My Lord, we need to get you dressed! Why have you bedded yourself so early?”  
The dressing process was quick and before he knew it, Samuel was staring at his father’s -the king’s -back as he gazed out the window.  
“They found your mother’s body in the river this morning.” The king’s voice was emotionless, as if he were talking about a sick dog that had been put down. “She’s ruined the drinking water for citizens downhill but they’re peasants anyway.”  
“What happened?” His mother. She was the only one outside of himself and his father who knew of the atrocities the king was committing nearly every day. She was the only one who could have saved him. Dead.  
“Folks reported seeing her on the bridge. She must have jumped. Pathetic woman.”  
Did she jump… or was she pushed? Samuel had no way of ever knowing. He looked around the room, desperate to look at anything except his father. His gaze settled on the king’s barber set, hastily left behind by a nervous -or maybe apprentice -servant.  
“Perhaps this will harden you,” the king continued, “your mother was much too soft. Weak. I will make sure that is crushed out of you, by any means necessary. No more outbursts from you, or you will face severe punishment. No more disrespect, or you will face severe punishment. You are to become an outstanding prince or I will personally see to it that you are broken.”  
It was happening again. This time he was snapped from his body like a brittle branch as opposed to the usual gentle guide and pull and melt. He saw the scissors in his hand, he saw his body latch onto the king’s back like a vice, he saw the blade plunge into the king’s jugular. Wet, crimson warmth splashed from the wound, coating the walls and splattering on his face. He felt it in his eyes, on his teeth, across his tongue, and it ripped excitement through his body like a bolt of lightning.  
Maybe the decision to kill his father wasn’t his, but he made the choice to rip him apart. He blinked and was pulled back into his body. The blood on his hands was slick and the blade slipped from his hands but remained embedded in the skin. He wrapped his elbow around the king’s neck and lurched to the side, causing the staggering body to crash to the floor. Samuel wretched himself from underneath his father’s broad frame and crawled on top of him, a fly on a slab of rotten meat. He wrapped his fingers around the grip of the scissors and ripped them from the wound to dig them in again. Again. Again. Again. The king’s eyes were wide and bright, full of fear and disbelief. Samuel hated those eyes. He removed his hands from the weapon, leaving it sticking out of the open throat, and gripped the sides of the king’s head, digging his thumbs into his eyes. There was pressure and pressure and too much pressure until eventually his fingernails plunged into the eye sockets. A horrible, delightful sound filled the room. The gurgling rasp of a screaming, open throat. He laughed until he cried, tears falling into the rapidly spilling blood beneath him. Even after the body under him stopped moving, he kept ripping at the face. He pried the mouth open and sliced out the tongue. The urge to bite into it with all his might was unbearable and he did it, feeling it split between his teeth and spitting the remains onto the floor. He smiled so hard it felt as though his face would split. He was laughing, and then he was crying. Gut-wrenching, throat-splitting sobs wracked through his body and quickly shifted to hyperventilating. He would surely be executed for this. The thought caused him to smile again, the tears still flowing.  
He would surely be executed for this. 

It was Samuel who called a servant to his room, pulling the string that was connected to a series of bells that lead to the servant’s chambers at the bottom of the castle. He carefully cracked open the door when one arrived and specifically requested Raven, the maid who had helped raise him from a babe. The servant was surprised at the request but made no arguments and hurried off. Even when Raven arrived, Samuel was fearful to tell her what had happened. Eventually, he crumbled, pleaded, “Please help me,” and opened the door for her.  
The sight before her was eery, to say the least. She had never seen a dead body before, much less that of her king. Seeing the prince, usually so strong and silent, trembling and in tears, broke her heart.  
“Did you do this?” she whispered.  
“Yes,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not sorry. But I’m scared. I’m scared, Raven. I don’t know what to do.”  
His eyes are pleading and his voice is desperate, so Raven opts to look at the king’s body instead. “He was murdered,” she says, thinking, “but not by you.” She looks back at him and sees the confusion on his face. “The king requested privacy after his wife’s death and was left vulnerable. A skilled assassin scaled the castle and did away with him before quickly departing. You and I have just found his body.” She looks him up and down. “We will need to get you some fresh clothes.”

The funeral for the king was extravagant, much more than he deserved, but it had to be big and Samuel had to attend. The body was buried with his mother, and Samuel gritted his teeth at the thought of her being stuck with him for eternity, but said nothing.  
His crowning was much more reserved, per his request. It was seen as an act of respect for his parents. He appears to be in so much mourning that he can’t even celebrate his own crowning. The truth was, he just didn’t like the attention and wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.  
He was only twenty years old. Still a child. King of his nation.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about all that


End file.
